


The Last Call

by Potatoad



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asshole!Tim, Brian Didn't Ask For Any of This, Crimes & Criminals, Criminal Organisations, F/M, M/M, Mafia relations, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Player!Roger, Roger is a Bad Man, Sad!Freddie, Sexual Frustration, Sweetheart!Brian, criminal activity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 14:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17347076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potatoad/pseuds/Potatoad
Summary: What Roger Taylor does for a living is far from legal. He knows this and so does everyone else around him. But once you’re in this business, you don't just leave. He's seen people try. But as things start getting hot under the collar, Roger begins to find it harder and harder to keep his standing in England’s most well-known crime hierarchy. Especially when he starts to develop feelings for an overly-friendly server at his local bar.





	The Last Call

He rarely visited the same bar twice. After all, visiting one was like visiting them all. The people varied in shape and size, but not much else in the long run. He rubbed at his eyes that he’d hidden behind his shades. To think he used to be one of those bodies, gyrating up against anything that had a pulse and a decent set of tits. He couldn’t help but grin a little to himself. Those were the days.

Yet, with each pint, those fond memories began to fade, replaced with a more dormant frustration. Roger Taylor was not a man of patience. And unfortunately, this had become both common knowledge and a common exploit. He had far better things to be doing than sitting sober at a bar of all places, and most of them were currently packed together like sardines on the dance floor. He threw back the rest of his pint and stood. He didn’t have time for this. He reached out to grab his jacket, only to be stopped midway.

“Leaving so soon honey?”

He glanced at the familiar hand on his arm.

“You’re late,” he spat, pulling himself away.

“A woman just has to make her impression, does she not?”

He returned to his seat reluctantly.

“Oh fuck off Freddie.”

The man lifted himself onto a stool of his own, before stretching himself out over the bar. With a quick flick of his wrist, he called over the bartender, looking at him, up and down.  
“I’ll guess I’ll take a… rum and coke?” he drawls, shooting the server flirtatious smile, “What about you dear Roggie?”

Roger glared at him, regardless of the fact his eyes were hidden. Freddie shot him a playful smile, glancing at the empty pint glass beside him.

“My dear Roger will have the most drab pint of beer you serve,” he says, eyes trained on the tall, curly-haired bartender, he then pulls a face, “He likes those.”

The man smiled, glancing briefly between the unconventional pair, “coming right up.”

Roger watched as the lanky guy stood, grabbing two different glasses from the shelf above him. As much as his face was hidden by his curls, Roger was fortunate enough to experience the way that the black shirt of his uniform began to slowly ride up his slim torso.

“Not bad,” Freddie mumbled as he walked away, Roger turning towards him.

“You have a boyfriend,” He reminds Freddie, whose eyes had glazed over just a bit.

“I suppose I do.” He mumbles, twisting at one of his many rings, “No harm in checking out the goods though, is there?” He turns, smirking playfully at Roger, going as far as to shoot him a wink.

At one point in his life, that would’ve driven Roger up the wall and yet now, he only found himself raising an eyebrow.

“Depends on who you ask.”

There was the familiar clink of glass on the table, “One rum and coke for yourself and the most boring pint we serve for the strong and silent type,” a voice interrupts, placing the two drinks between them.

“Why thank you, dearie,” Freddie says, making sure to trail his hand over the servers as he hands him the money.

The waiter smiles politely in return, sliding Roger’s glass towards him. He shoots him an amused look given Freddie’s less than subtle nature. Roger finds himself smiling knowingly. Freddie had gotten into quite a bit of trouble in the past for his flirtatious nature, after all, not all guys like to get hit on by an overly effeminate man in leather. The server, however, seemed unfazed, his large hazel eyes, shining with a friendliness Roger hadn’t witnessed in years.

“Let me get that for you.”

The man leaned in, his face inches from Roger’s, whose glass had become frozen in mid-air, the journey between the table and his lips having ceased. For just a moment, the stale smell of cigarette smoke that was embedded into the walls was broken into by something new, something unfamiliar. Roger tensed slightly as the man pulled back, glass in hand. As he turned and walked away, Roger found himself staring at his back blankly. He blinked slowly, allowing himself that first sip of alcohol.  
“So why are you here?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

He could see the waiter begin to subtly sway to the music, playing over the bars stereo-system. He felt Freddie’s sigh resonate within him.

“Business, as is normal these days,” He replies, picking up his own drink.

“What does he want now?” He asks, his eyes flitting over to Freddie’s, whose shoulders had sunk.

“He’s run into some trouble recently,” he says, “with a local casino.”

“And why am I not surprised?”

“Roger-“

“Yes Freddie, I know. It’s not his fault, whatever, I don’t care,” He recites, taking a long drag of his beer, “Do you have the down payment?”

He’d been trying to change the situation for years and to no avail. Freddie was, unfortunately, unabashedly in love.

“Of course I do darling.”

Freddie takes out the white envelope from inside his sinfully tight shirt, placing it on the table. He moves to take it, yet Freddie’s hand keeps it pressed against the bar.

“He’d like it done sooner rather than later,” he says, giving him a poignant stare.

Roger lets out a snort of derision as Freddie loosens his grip on the paper. He takes the wallet gratefully and begins sorting through the bills.

“I’ll get it done when I get it done,” He says, when he’s done, “because Timothy seems to forget he’s not my boss.”

Freddie frowns, “Yes but-“

“He can’t touch me, Freddie. You know that, I know that and he’d do well to remember it,” he says, pointing the envelope at Freddie.

“Not at the moment dear… but things change.”

Roger looks up at Freddie, who had become far more sombre about their meeting. He pockets the money safely into his own shirt and places a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Freddie, I deal with these men all the time, I know what I’m doing. Just, trust me?”

Freddie nods hesitantly as Roger stands, swinging his jacket over his shoulders. He took his glass, downing its remnants. He wasn’t one to waste perfectly good alcohol.

“It was good seeing you, Fred. It’s nice not dealing with lackies every once in a while,” Roger grins, only to be met with the concerned gaze of the man before him.

“Stay safe Roger.”

“You too.”

He left the bar quickly, keeping his head down as he entered the clean, fresh air. To think Freddie had only ever been that ditsy, flirtatious type when they first met. He grabbed at his cigarette packet, nestled within his jacket pocket. Tearing it open, he placed one between his chapped lips, letting out a long breath. His body felt stiffer than it had in years. He felt wound up so tightly he could barely breathe. His thoughts kept drifting to the bodies on the dance floor, to the way they rubbed up and down against one another, and the girls, god the girls, who were barely contained by their tops. Roger’s groan was almost audible. He knew it was bad when even the bartender's sliver of skin began to rile him up. God, he needed to get laid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Comments, questions and feedback are all very welcome, if not encouraged :)
> 
> And a little PSA - Please don't send my work to anyone in, or affiliated with Queen, this is just a bit of fun for me try and curb my procrastination a bit.


End file.
